Dalip Singh Saund
Congressman From India

II. I COME TO AMERICA

My passport was in order. My elder brother, who at that time was the
palace engineer in the state of Kashmir, had furnished me passage money for the
trip to the United States.

On a fine August day I sailed from Bombay on the S.S. Marcara,
bound for Plymouth, England.

Most of the passengers were English army and government people
returning to England on leave from India. One of them with whom I became
acquainted was an engineer employed at the Tata steelworks. When I told him
that I had majored in mathematics he began to tease me with mathematical
problems. For example, he told me how high we were above the water and asked me
to figure the distance to the horizon. My mathematics were still fresh in my
mind so I had little difficulty in figuring out the formula and arriving at the
correct answer. He complimented me and we soon became good friends. He was most
helpful in his advice and information as to the conditions I would meet both in
England and the United States.

After we reached Plymouth I immediately went to London where I found I
would have to wait several weeks before I could get passage to the United
States. Despite my impatience, I used the time to see as many of the sights as
possible.

I noticed how reverently the British people passed by the tombs of
Lord Nelson in Saint Paul's Cathedral and the Duke of Wellington in Westminster
Abbey, those two great builders of the British Empire. While I could respect
these men for themselves, their achievements in building the Empire did not
have much appeal for me. I was not interested in empire builders. Abraham
Lincoln's statue, however, evoked in me quite a different response.

I also visited Hyde Park, where one could go any time of the day and
listen to fiery and partisan speeches on all subjects. In those days the
favorite topics were socialism, communism, Irish freedom, and Indian
independence. Some of the speeches were for, some against; some of the speakers
praised the government, others damned it. It was most exciting to me, as it was
my first experience with the meaning of freedom of speech. In India, certainly
no such thing as open criticism of the British Empire was tolerated.

While I was in Great Britain I discovered that the Englishmen who lived
in England were an altogether different type from those I had known or heard of
in India in respect to their attitudes toward India's right to
self-government. They were very decent and kind to me and many were devoted
admirers of Mahatma Gandhi, who sympathized sincerely with India's desire to be
free.

At long last I was finally able to secure passage to the United States
on the S.S. Philadelphia leaving Southampton. The only space available was in
steerage. When I boarded the ship I found the accommodations were a far cry
from the first-class luxury I had experienced from Bombay to Plymouth. We
crossed the English Channel during the night and stopped at Cherbourg where the
ship took on hundreds of passengers from Europe.

The week's trip across the Atlantic was not very pleasant for me
principally because the food was so poor. All I could bring myself to eat was
milk and fruit. I was amazed that my fellow passengers were able to eat some of
the food that was served until I realized that most of them were people from
Europe, many of whom had actually experienced hunger and starvation during
wartime. Even though I had come from a very poor country, I had never known
what it was like to be hungry.

Among the passengers aboard the S.S. Philadelphia was an
attractive and charming young blonde lady who was returning to New York to join
her husband. She was interested in India and we talked together quite
often. She had an eleven-year-old daughter with her and we all became very good
friends. New York was their destination while I was bound for San
Francisco. Eight years later we were to meet in Los Angeles again under very
strange and providential circumstances.

When we reached New York Harbor we were delayed by heavy fog for two
days. Then at last the fog lifted a little and I could see the faint outlines
of the Statue of Liberty. It was an exhilarating experience. I had finally
arrived in the United States of America.

During the stay at Ellis Island, while waiting to be cleared for entry,
I felt lonesome for the first time since I left India. Here I was at Ellis
Island. I had come to the United States but I was not yet free to go into the
country. Then while I was standing in a long line to have my passport examined
a kindly inspector who obviously knew India took me out of the line and had my
papers stamped. Finally, warmly shaking my hand, he said to me, "You are now a
free man in a free country." Then he whispered into my ear, "You do not have to
Worry about the C.I.D. either." (C.I.D. stood for the Criminal Investigation
Department in India--the dread and hated secret police.)

I looked around and said to myself, "Yes, at long last you are a free
man in a free country. You may go where you wish and say what you please." That
certainly proved true, for as long as I have been in the United States,
particularly in the early years, while I was cruelly discriminated against many
a time because of the place of my birth, not once has my right to say what I
pleased been questioned by any man. To me, coming as I did from India, freedom
of speech and liberty to go wherever I wished without having any fears of
secret police hounding me were of profound and lasting significance.

I set out from New York for San Francisco, California, where I intended
to enroll as a student at the University of California to study food
preservation and canning. It was a long train trip and I had not as yet become
accustomed to American food. So all the way across the country I lived on milk
and bread.

At the Ferry Building in San Francisco the attendant at the Traveler's
Aid Society booth directed me to a Hindu temple. There I was told that I should
stay in San Francisco that night and take a ferry the next morning across the
bay to Berkeley. I was further advised that if I went to Mission Street I would
be able to find a hotel room in which to spend the night. It was the most
uncomfortable night I have ever spent in my life. I had heard about bedbugs,
but this was the first time I had actually encountered a bed infested with
them. The bed was impossible, and my only refuge was the floor, but that
yielded scant comfort.

The next morning I rushed to the Ferry Building and took the ferry to
Berkeley, the seat of the University of California. I went straight to 1731
Allston Way, where I found the clubhouse established and maintained by the
Sikh Temple in Stockton, California. The temple had bought this two-story
house for the use and benefit of students from India who could live there rent
free. The only requirement was that residents of the club be enrolled at a high
school or the university. It was run by the resident members on a cooperative
basis--students paid for their gas and electricity and we took turns at cooking
Hindu-style meals. When my turn came around, I always prepared my
specialty--chicken curry.

For the next two years I was a resident member of the club. The
resultant saving was a great help to me as it was to other students, because in
those days no students from India received any government scholarships since
the British Government of India was not interested in educating Indians in the
United States. We had all come over on our own and we were all short of funds.

One of the senior members of the club was studying agriculture and he
very kindly helped me enter the university as a graduate student, a further
help, since no tuition fees were required of graduate students. In the course
of my studies I took part in several experiments which were being carried on at
the university at that time in the line of food preservation. I worked very
diligently in the laboratory and had the opportunity to experiment with the
canning and dehydration of fruits and vegetables. It was at this time that a
number of tragic deaths were reported as a result of ptomaine poisoning
contracted after eating canned olives. It was in the food preservation
laboratories of the University of California that a safe formula for canning
olives was finally perfected.

Contact with Americans was limited to associations made in my
university classes; my other contacts were almost exclusively with my fellow
citizens from India of whom there were some eighty at the university. The only
times that students of different nationalities ever got together were at
meetings of the Cosmopolitan Club, sponsored by the YMCA in Berkeley, under the
leadership of the YMCA secretary, Dr. Day.

The student group from India was very well organized and
we all belonged to the Hindustan Association of America, which had chapters
throughout the United States in different university centers. After I had been
at Berkeley two years I was elected national president of the association,
which gave me many opportunities to make speeches on India and meet with other
groups as a representative of the Indian students at the university. All of us
were ardent Nationalists and we never passed up an opportunity to expound on
India's rights to self-government. I took part in several debates and spoke
before many groups and organizations.

It was my habit at the time to write my speeches out very carefully in
advance. Sometimes I would take two or more weeks to write a speech and then
memorize it. I used the best possible language and tried to follow the style of
old English orators who believed in melodious phrases couched in flawless
grammar. But I soon found this special preparation could get me into
trouble. It allowed for no spontaneity, and when I had to have a comeback or an
answer to a question on controversial subjects such as Indian independence I
was often very slow.

On one occasion when I was president of the Hindustan Association of
America, the annual convention was scheduled to be held at the university. I
had previously gone to Palo Alto and made arrangements with the president of
Stanford University, Dr. David Starr Jordan, to be our principal speaker. A few
days before the convention, however, Dr. Jordan had to go East and could not be
present. We had difficulty in finding a substitute, but finally a professor of
political science at the university agreed to pinch-hit.

I delivered a half-hour talk on the right of India to independence and
the inequities of British rule. Then our main speaker rose and proceeded to
tear me apart. He floored me with questions I couldn't promptly answer. "How
about the primitive agriculture in India?" he asked. "How about the caste
system? How about the disunity between the Hindus and the Mohammedans?"

He easily got the better of me and I felt very sick and sad that the
meeting ended by creating an unfavorable impression for the cause of India.

A leadership position among my group was not always an enviable
one. Once I was chairman of the annual faculty dinner to which students invited
instructors as guests. I worked for two weeks preparing my speeches and
introductions of honored guests, and I recall my feelings quite vividly. While
sitting at the head table next to the dean of the Agricultural College who was
to be our principal speaker, I worried as I tried to remember the big words and
resounding passages in my forthcoming speech of welcome. Meanwhile, I could see
my fellow students having a wonderful time, chatting and talking with their
girl friends and faculty guests. Most of the extra work was my own fault. I now
know it was not necessary for me to worry and work so hard on my speeches, but
I was a perfectionist, and there was no helping it.

Mahatma Gandhi had become a very popular figure in the United States by
this time and people were eager to know and hear about him, particularly from a
native of India. Therefore, it was not unusual for me to receive as many as
seven invitations a week to talk about Gandhi.

These talks were not always one-sided. Sometimes I encountered people
in my audiences--particularly in the question-and-answer period--who knew much
more about India than I, and there were some very embarrassing occasions,
particularly when I was asked questions I couldn't properly answer. All in all,
however, it was a wonderful experience to be able to go out and meet with
people and talk of matters close to my heart. I felt at the time that the least
I could do for India was to present a true picture of that unhappy land to the
people of America. In those days the picture of India which most of the
American people carried in their minds had little basis in reality. It was a
confused jumble of yogis, snake charmers, and maharajas. There were very few
good books available about India, most of them written by former members of the
British Government in India who were on the whole extremely unfriendly toward
the history and culture of that ancient land.

Once I was invited as a representative of the Indian students to the
home of the minister of a large church in Berkeley, together with
representatives of other foreign student groups. Our host was very friendly and
kind and asked each of us what, in our opinion, Americans could do to make our
lives more pleasant and make it easier for us to meet and mingle with
Americans.

All of us were eager to meet the American people and become a part of
American life; but because of our general lack of funds, we were not in a
position to go out and live in American homes and pay room and board.

When it came my turn to speak, I said: "My friend, what makes us feel
not at home as much as we would like are just such meetings as this, and I wish
there were no need for such a meeting. What we would like is not to be
considered foreigners or strangers at all, but to be accepted by Americans as
friends. Then there would be no need for meetings like this. You have a
beautiful home here. If a close relative or friend comes to your house, you
don't stand up and offer him the best chair in the house. He comes in and feels
at home; he sits where he can. It is only to strangers that you stand up and
offer the best place. We would like to be merely members of the family and not
feel we are strangers or foreigners."

But such acceptance was very difficult to obtain in the atmosphere of
California in those days, particularly for students from Asia. Prejudice
against Asiatic people in California was very intense in the early twenties and
I felt keen discrimination in many ways. Outside of the university atmosphere
it was made quite evident that people from Asia--Japanese, Chinese, and
Hindus--were not wanted.

The state legislature had just passed a piece of discriminatory
legislation known as the Alien Land Act. It prohibited Asiatics from owning or
leasing farm land and was aimed at preventing them--particularly the
Japanese--from acquiring rich and fertile land in the state. Japanese and
Chinese were becoming a dominant factor in truck farming in California and the
law stated that no person who was ineligible for American citizenship would be
permitted to lease or own properties for agricultural purposes. Since all
Asiatics were ineligible for American citizenship, they were effectively
boycotted.

Despite the prejudice and discrimination that I saw, there were many
other American practices that made a more favorable impression on me. I recall
one afternoon when I was returning from the university library to the clubhouse
I saw a group of boys and girls gathered together near Berkeley High
School. Two boys were having a knockdown, drag-out fight. As I stood there and
watched, I noticed that not one among the spectators tried to help or hinder
either of the fighters. Eventually one of them acknowledged he'd had enough and
the battle was over.

Then, to my amazement, the two boys walked arm in arm to the soda
fountain nearby and shared a coke from the same bottle.

It was my first experience with sportsmanship as practiced in
America. I vowed to myself that if I was going to acquire any of the
characteristics of the American people, one of the most important ones would be
to learn to be a good sport. At this time I saw another example of it on the
political level. During the American national election in 1920 I read the
speeches of the two presidential candidates and heard some of the debates on
the issues. It was a long and hard-fought campaign, but I saw that on the night
of the election, as soon as it became apparent that Senator Harding had won
the election, the defeated candidate, Governor Cox, sent a sincere
message of congratulations and offered his services to the next president.

After a year of study at the university in the Department of
Agriculture, my love for mathematics was once again aroused. This was not
difficult, for my interest had been kept alive by my friends who were taking
courses in mathematics and who would often come to me for help. Then one
morning, out of curiosity, I visited the Department of Mathematics. I talked to
the instructors, and told them I had majored in mathematics in India at the
University of Punjab, and graduated with a B.A. degree with honors in Applied
Mathematics.

I learned that if I wanted to try for a master's degree in mathematics
at Berkeley I could apply the units which I had acquired in the Department of
Agriculture toward the twenty which were required for an M.A. degree. I figured
out that it would be possible to take some courses in mathematics while
continuing my studies in food preservation and within a year's time I could get
an M.A. degree in mathematics.

So I joined the Department of Mathematics and qualified for an M.A. For
my master's thesis I was advised by Professor McDonald to continue work that
had been started by a professor at Cambridge on a differential equation which
had no general solution but did have particular solutions.

I worked on the problem diligently and when Professor McDonald accepted
my thesis he told me that if I wanted to continue for a Ph. D. degree he would
be happy to accept my work as thesis for that high degree. This was naturally
quite an inducement, and with this generous encouragement I therefore decided
to continue my mathematical studies. I expanded my work on the same thesis "On
Functions Associated with the Elliptic Cylinder in Harmonic Analysis" and after
about a year and a half of further study I received my Ph. D.

The greatest difficulty I encountered was in languages. I had to have a
reading and writing knowledge of two foreign languages. I chose French and
German and learned to read books on mathematics in both tongues.

My two instructors in agriculture, Professors William Cruess and
Richard Christy, were very helpful to me in my work and I became deeply
attached to them personally. Among the many favors they bestowed upon me and
other students was to help secure jobs during the summer vacations in various
canning factories in California.

One year I worked in an asparagus canning factory of Libby, McNeill &
Libby near Sacramento. Another time I was employed at the same company's
factory in Sunnyvale, a very large plant where cherries, peaches, and other
fruits in season were canned. I also worked at the factories of the California
Packing Corporation, particularly Plant No. 7 in Emeryville near Oakland.

During the several months I worked at the Emeryville plant I became
very friendly with the superintendent, Mr. Henry Bernier. He was a very
progressive manager who believed in giving opportunities to college students
and inducing them to join his organization. I had been in charge of the syrup
department for several months when the assistant superintendent of the plant
was transferred.

One evening Mr. Bernier invited me to his home for supper. I enjoyed
meeting his lovely wife and two small children, and during the evening's
conversation Mr. Bernier asked me what I intended to do after I graduated from
the university. At that time I was still working for my Ph. D. degree in
mathematics. Since my mind was far from made up as to the future, I replied
very vaguely to the effect that some time in the future I wanted to write a
history of India and perhaps the further opportunity to obtain a fellowship or
instructor's position in mathematics in some American college or
university. Almost as an afterthought I said I was also interested in learning
more about the canning industry.

Two days later Mr. Bernier told me that during that evening at his home
I had talked myself out of a good job. He had decided to offer me the position
of assistant superintendent of the factory, a welcome and flattering offer to a
twenty-three-year-old student. The company, he said, was looking for college
graduates who had studied in the field of agriculture because they were
expanding and needed more college-trained people in managerial positions. When
I had been vague about my future plans, he had decided that it was not the job
for me since they had no interest in training young men who were not certain
that they wanted to make canning a career. It was the first time in my life
that I talked myself out of a good job; but certainly not the last.

I received my Ph. D. degree in mathematics in May, 1924. By that time I
had decided that I was going to make America my home, although I had received
offers of professorships from two colleges in India. I had made up my mind
definitely that I was not going back to India, but the difficulties in my way
were very formidable.

During my college years at Berkeley I had maintained my keen interest
in American history and government by studying the lives of the great leaders
of the nation, Washington, Jefferson, Jackson, Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, and
Woodrow Wilson. I had come to the United States as a great admirer of its
institutions and its leaders. America exemplified for me the highest form of
democracy. Its people had developed a system based upon the Declaration of
Independence and the belief that all men are created equal. Human dignity
was recognized and (with some notable exceptions) the principles of democracy
were practiced.

From my contacts at the university my fondness and affection for
American institutions had extended to the American people as well. I came to
love their open friendliness, enthusiasm, and spontaneity. Even though life for
me did not seem very easy, it had become impossible to think of a life
separated from the United States. I was aware of the considerable prejudice
against the people of Asia in California and knew that few opportunities
existed for me or people of my nationality in the state at that time. I was not
a citizen and could not become one. The only way Indians in California could
make a living at that time was to join with others who had settled in various
parts of the state as farmers.

I had met a few Indians from Imperial Valley who had done very well,
and so in the summer of 1925 I decided to go to the southern California desert
valley and make my living as a farmer.